


Kindness

by lferion



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Fairy Tale Tropes, Frogs, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-20
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-27 14:09:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lferion/pseuds/lferion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From small beginnings --</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kindness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Penknife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penknife/gifts).



> Thanks go to the usual suspects for beta-duties, encouragement and sanity-checking.

* * *

  
_"if the world seems cold to you, light a fire to warm it"_ -Lucy Larcom

It looked like an ordinary frog, crouched greeny-grey-brown and glistening on the edge of the fountain, but appearances could all too often be deceiving. Indeed, as James leaned down to look more closely at the creature, it blinked large, opalescent, _intelligent_ eyes at him, and he was irresistibly reminded of the tale of the princess losing her golden ball, to be rescued by the frog. James might be of an age, or only a little younger, with the girl in the story, but princess he most certainly was not. Though the idea of being kissed by a prince made him shiver with a frisson of forbidden delight. James crouched down himself, careful of the new long trousers that proclaimed him no longer a child. Young men were not supposed to believe fairy tales — Charles, his elder by some years and insufferably smug in his superiority to James, certainly would not have any truck with such 'stuff and nonsense', but this _was_ a demonstrably real and unusual frog.

“Are you lost?” he asked it quietly. “It’s a nice fountain, but a very busy thoroughfare most of the time.”

The frog blinked at him. James blinked back. “I will be happy to take you down to the pond in the park,” he said (ignoring the fact that long pants or no, he wasn’t supposed to walk to the park by himself. It was the right thing to do, so he would do it and take the consequences that came. Assuming he got caught of course. He wasn’t likely to be missed before tea.)

The frog cocked its head and blinked again. After a moment, it hopped onto the back of James' hand, where he was holding on to the edge of the fountain. All four webbed feet clung fast. There was a shimmer of color like oil on water on the round eyes and rippling over its skin, darkening the grey to something more like the olive of his sleeve. James took the blink and the color shift to mean the pond was a desired destination. The day was cool and sunless, clouds crowding the sky but refusing to rain, but it would still be best to go quickly. According to the books he'd read, frogs did not do well out of or away from water for too long. James stood up carefully, and the frog settled itself in the crook of his elbow, nearly invisible under the edge of his short jacket as he set off toward the park.

It did not take him long to disappear down the lane between the houses and the mews, and presently he was at the park. He walked with proper politeness down the pathway, neither racing or dawdling. There were not many people about at this hour, and those that were seemed hardly to see him at all; their eyes would brush over him, noting his unremarkable nankeen jacket and long trousers and never get to his face at all. They were clearly seeing ‘neatly dressed youth (of no consequence, ignore him)’ not ‘child escaped from his nursemaid (something should be done about him)’. He'd wondered sometimes, watching Charles and his parents fail to see the servants time and again, if part of that invisibility was caused by their uniform clothes as well as their unobtrusive demeanor. James was pleased to see his theory prove true, but he didn’t let his happiness at being right speed his steps. Running would certainly make him unpleasantly visible.

A branch of the path looped around the pond, and James went a little faster, reaching the point where a large tree stood with its roots reaching into the water. The path made a generous bend around the tree, leaving a little lawn of short grass between the gravel and the trunk. Some of the branches bent low, screening the immediate edge of the water. James ducked under the leaves, and stepped carefully around the slippery roots and rocks. Getting his shoes wet would be a very bad idea. For one thing, they were light house shoes, not meant for rough ground, and for another they were new, and expected to last for a while. There was a fork between two of the roots that went close to the pond, with a patch of jewel-bright moss and tiny white flowers nestled in the small triangular space they made. James knelt on the smooth, dry bark of the root close to the tree. The frog stirred itself and blinked its eyes open, its skin going a brighter, clearer green as it hopped neatly from the crook of James’ elbow to the cushion of moss.

“There you go. I hope you like it here,” James said softly.

Before the frog went into the water, it turned and looked up at James, its eyes lambent and nearly gold. James had the distinct impression it was thanking him for the kindness, and wishing him well. He was nearly certain the tree was thanking him too, unlikely as that was.

“You are welcome,” James said to the frog. “And you as well,” he spoke to the tree, noticing that there were sparks of light in the bark that might have been reflections from the water, had the sun been out. “Perhaps you will be kind enough to watch out for him.”

A sense of assent tickled at him, and he straightened up, one hand on the trunk for balance. The frog vanished into the water with a last flash of opal eyes. James sighed a little. He would have liked to know more, to stay and discover if the tree was communicating with him or if it was only his imagination. But perhaps one of the books in the library would be forthcoming. And now it was nearly time for tea. He didn't particularly want to go home to the cool and proper ceremony of Afternoon High Tea, but there was no use procrastinating over it. He’d best be getting back. With a last glance at the faint ripples in the otherwise smooth surface of the pond where the frog had disappeared, and another for the gracious tree, James bent his steps toward home.

Certainly, this was not an adventure he could — or would — share with his brother. Charles would not believe him in any case, not this so-rational century or any other.


End file.
